


It's No Fun To Go Alone

by FriendshipCastle



Series: Volleydorks [10]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Asexual Relationship, Bad Parenting, Bring-your-SO-to-a-party fic, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Genderfluid Character, Legal age drinking too, T for swears, Trans Character, Underage Drinking, reference to homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-02
Updated: 2014-11-09
Packaged: 2018-02-23 15:26:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2552459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FriendshipCastle/pseuds/FriendshipCastle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My anime buddy suggested I write fic about how Tsukki has to go fancy places with his parents but brings Freckles and I was all set to write it but then I got mad because I'm not writing enough Kageyama and Hinata so now I'm writing another series.</p>
<p>Teammates hanging out at grown-up parties with their friends and boyfriends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Glad I Brought You

Kageyama straightened his tie in the mirror, double-checked that his binder wasn’t showing through his dress shirt (it was blue so he should be good—he was never going to buy white shirts ever, he’d promised himself), and then took a few deep breaths. He straightened his tie again. He was maybe going to choke himself with his own Windsor knot before this night was over. There was a knock on the door to his room.

“Tobio?” his father’s muffled voice called through the wood.

“Yeah?” he said.

“Your friend is here.”

Shit. “Thanks,” he said, and smashed his bangs flat against his forehead before scrabbling to unlock the door to his room. He didn’t really need to lock it—his father had never shown an interest in coming in—but it had become a habit from the rare weekends he’d spend with his mother. She barged in all the time if he wasn’t careful, and then she’d get the giggles when she caught him practicing volleyball by himself. She thought it was ‘cute’ that he played a sport with such intensity. It was embarrassing to have her collect all those moments he spent practicing volleyball and then turn it into a joke for her friends about how he had obsessive tendencies.

When he got downstairs, Hinata was standing by the door in a suit that was just a bit too big for him. It was also inescapably brown plaid. He was staring at Kageyama as though he was experiencing the thrill of a particularly intense roller-coaster; his eyes were huge and his head was jerked back behind his shoulders, hands clamped to his sides. He looked terrified and awed already, and all this while wearing the ugliest suit Kageyama had ever seen.

“Are you fucking kidding me,” Kageyama said.

“You look nice,” Hinata said, and then Kageyama’s words registered and his face darkened. “Hey!”

“Where’d you get that suit?” Kageyama said, and then _Hinata’s_ words registered. “Oh. Uh, thanks.”

“No, I take it back, you look like a _jerk_ ,” Hinata said. “Because you _are_ a jerk!”

Kageyama opened his mouth but his father’s hand was suddenly on his shoulder. “Tobio, why don’t you introduce us.”

“Oh, uh, this is my father, Kageyama Eiji. Father, this is Hinata Shoyou. He’s my teammate and he’s in my year.”

“Nice to meet you, Hinata,” Kageyama’s father said with a smile that was as charming as Kageyama’s was terrifying. He had all of Kageyama’s features, but somehow they managed to look good on him. He was short enough (a full 10cm below his son, who got his height from his mother) that he didn’t look intimidating. He’d also figured out how his face worked and how to look like a pleasant, approachable businessman, which he was. Kageyama secretly wished that he could sit down with his father one day and talk about how to look less scary in front of people but he couldn’t bring himself to begin such an awkward conversation with the man. He’d just have to keep practicing his faces in the mirror when he was alone.

“Hi, Mr. Kageyama,” Hinata said. His hand was dwarfed by Kageyama’s father’s but he was smiling as bright as ever. Not like the first time he’d met Kageyama. Or any of the times they’d have a conversation, really. Kageyama looked away.

“I haven’t heard much about you,” Kageyama’s father said, gently steering both boys to the car. “Are you a good friend of Tobio’s?”

Hinata glanced at Kageyama. Kageyama wasn’t sure what his face did but Hinata nodded slowly. “Yes, we’re friends. We’re a super good duo when we play volleyball together.”

Of fucking course Hinata had brought it up. Kageyama’s face must have done something else because Hinata’s eyes got _huge_ and suddenly his hands were shaking as he buckled his seat belt. “Uh. But we’re just really teammates? I don’t know what Kageyama had for breakfast today or anything like that.” He giggled nervously.

“Ah, volleyball,” Kageyama’s father said, just like Kageyama knew he would. Kageyama closed his eyes and braced himself. 

“You know that’s the only thing Tobio would agree to participate in when he was a child? Really young, too. He saw some kids doing it when he was about seven or so and he grabbed my hand—and if you know Tobio, you know that’s unusual for him—and he said, ‘What’s that?’ So I said, ‘That’s some boys playing volleyball.’ And he could have stood there and watched them play for hours. His mother and I had bought him an ice cream cone and it melted all down his new dress, didn’t it, Tobio? Do you remember that?”

“No,” Kageyama said. He could hear muffled snickers coming from Hinata but he kept his eyes closed and tried to pretend none of this was happening.

“It was pretty adorable,” Kageyama’s father continued. “I am amazed he’s kept it up this long, though. Even during high school. You know that’s when studies really should take priority. Don’t you think so, Hinata?”

“Uh,” Hinata said. “I mean, I was kind of the same as Kageyama. Like, I saw this really cool player when I was ten. It was in a match on TV, and he was on the team we’re on now, Kurasuno’s team! And I just knew I wanted to know how to do all that, how to be super amazing at volleyball, more than anything in the world. So I picked volleyball as the best sport and now we play together and it’s so cool!”

“Shhh,” Kageyama hissed between his teeth, hopefully low enough that his father wouldn’t hear. His eyes were starting to hurt, he had them clenched so tight. His cheeks were _burning_. He hadn’t thought this through at all. His father had said that he could bring a friend to his father’s work party and the only person he’d thought to invite—the only person he felt like he could invite, truly—was Hinata. But goddamn this was embarrassing. Childhood stories from his father and enthusiastic volleyball talk from Hinata. He had trapped himself.

His father was already starting an argument Kageyama had experienced many, many times as he navigated them onto the country road that would take them to a dinner party Kageyama desperately did not want to go to. “Well, Hinata, I guess I can see why Tobio invited you along to this soiree. You have very similar outlooks. I hope you start realizing that doing well in school is a priority too, though. After all, volleyball isn’t as important as the rest of your lives. You don’t realize it now but high school is a very short little blip on the timeline of your life. You may have some fond memories with your teammates but I hope you don’t kill yourself practicing, the way Tobio does, and completely neglect your schoolwork.”

“My mom wouldn’t let me do that,” Hinata said. The regret was clear in his voice. “I gotta apply to universities and all that. But I’m never going to give up on volleyball, I know that! And Kageyama won’t either!”

Kageyama suddenly felt a very sweaty hand wrap around his right index and middle finger, where they had been pressed against the seat in mortification. His eyes snapped open and he glared down to where the hands met, then slid that glare up Hinata’s arm to his face. Hinata wasn’t looking at him, though. He was trying to peer around the driver’s seat, directly in front of him, to get a look at Kageyama’s father as he continued to talk about how good he and Kageyama were together, how fun it was to play volleyball with a whole bunch of talented people, how excited he was for the next match, how he wanted to play volleyball until his hands fell off…

He kept his hand wrapped firmly around Kageyama’s fingers, though. After a little bit, Kageyama shook him off, then turned his own palm face up and laced their fingers together. Hinata shook out of that with a grimace that Kageyama echoed—it looked nice in movies but it felt really weird to interlock fingers in real life—and instead they held hands like they were wearing mittens for the rest of the short car ride. Kageyama’s father kept laughing gently at their enthusiasm for volleyball but with Hinata there, it didn’t seem like such a hurtful thing.

Hinata leaned over when Kageyama’s father had parked the car and gotten out. “Hey,” he hissed.

“What,” Kageyama said.

“Your dad’s not very cool when it comes to volleyball.”

“No,” Kageyama said. “He isn’t. Neither is my mother.”

“But you’re really cool because you keep doing it anyway.”

Kageyama stared at him. Hinata smiled at him, wiggled their clasped hands a little, and then let go and slid out. He poked his head back into the car and said, “You coming? We gotta go be nice to adults for a few hours but I bet someone in there likes volleyball!”

He ducked out and slammed the door before he could get a look at Kageyama’s answering smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kags ruins moods. Hinata’s all ready to be like ‘damn you are fine’ but no. Mood ruiner Kags forever.
> 
> I continued my grand tradition of having Wikipedia help me name characters I don’t know the names of/have invented completely for my own delight. No canon basis to speak of for Kags’ father’s name, it just means some cool shit.
> 
> Parents are sensitive to their kid’s gender identities and sexualities in this universe I have envisioned for Volleyball Anime. Well, not Tsukki’s dad, but for sure Kags’. Pronouns are what the kid has chosen, even if the kid didn’t have opinions about it earlier in his/her/their life. Hence Kageyama’s ‘dress’ when he was younger, back when he was conforming to whatever outfits his mom bought him and before he articulated his identity. His dad’s still going to embarrass the shit out of him either way because dads. Mr. and Mrs. Kageyama are divorced because anime headcanons. It's been awesome to write family life for these guys because I don't think there's anything canon so I can just go _nuts._
> 
> Interlocking all your fingers with another person’s fingers when holding hands feels really weird. Mitten hand holding or hooked pinkies or nothing for me thanks.
> 
> They aren’t dating here but it’s probably at least their second year and they are bonding like crazy yep yep.


	2. Can't Take You Anywhere

Yamaguchi was holding his wine glass of sparkling cider and mingling like a champ. He’d joining groups of people with a smile and an attentive ear, nodding at everyone, listening closely. He could clearly handle this small-talk kind of party stuff with complete confidence. Tsukishima was just starting to relax when one of the women who worked with Tsukishima’s father looped her arm with her husband’s and said, “You know, Yukio here could have catered this event.”

“Really?” everyone said.

She looked up at her husband adoringly. “His appetizers are to die for. He made me a quiche for our fifteenth anniversary, just because he felt like it, and I almost cried it was so perfect.”

“ _You’re_ so perfect,” her husband said with a smile. They leaned in at the same time and brushed noses.

“Tsukishima can bake,” Yamaguchi said.

Tsukishima, who had just taken a drink of his own sparkling cider, swallowed hard.

“He made these croissants once,” Yamaguchi said dreamily. Everyone was smiling at him and Tsukishima, standing next to each other in almost-matching tuxedos. Tsukishima’s father was premiering another short film and he’d allowed Tsukishima to invite a friend. He had almost swallowed his own tongue when Yamaguchi showed up at the door with his hair slicked back and his shoes shined, outfitted in a full tux but definitely the same boy who wasn’t allowed to be in his son’s room without supervision.

“They just melted in your mouth,” Yamaguchi continued. 

Tsukishima looked at all the knowing smiles coming from adults his father knew and worked with. He looked at his glass of sparkling cider. He looked at Yamaguchi, innocently smiling at all these people and then licking his lips and adding, “It seriously tasted like heaven.”

Tsukishima went to go see if they’d serve him at the bar.

 

 

 

 

It was two hours later that Yamaguchi stopped telling another funny Tsukki story. The adults were chuckling together, and he heard one man whisper in his wife’s ear, “Ah, young love.”

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Yamaguchi whispered to himself, every single interaction he’d had over the course of the night unspooling in his mind all at once. He had not had one conversation where he didn’t bring up Tsukki. He had talked about all the times Tsukki made him food, how Tsukki got grumpy at horror movies, when Tsukki collected plastic dinosaurs and had painted little feathers on them after he’d learned about theories of the link between dinosaurs and birds, how Tsukki was the tallest boy he knew and the cleverest blocker, how Tsukki got really toasty when he slept and sometimes talked in his sleep…

“Ohhhhh fuck,” Yamaguchi whispered again. He was going to be in big trouble with Tsukki’s father. He was allowed to be around the Tsukishima household as long as Mr. Tsukishima didn’t feel uncomfortable about the arrangement, which was blatantly unfair since no one else in the household had a problem with him and Tsukiki dating. Akiteru sometimes brought him candy and left notes saying, _Thanks for dating my brother!_ on Yamaguchi’s notebook and Mrs. Tsukishima had flat-out lied for them on multiple occasions so they could do homework while lying on the same bed (even though she probably assumed they were doing something else in the same bed...). Everyone except Tsukki was hoping for Mr. Tsukishima to lighten up already. Tsukki was just gritting his teeth until university because it “wasn’t worth it,” whatever that meant. But now, with every interaction he’d had at this party pointing to “I’M HAVING SEX WITH YOUR SON,” Yamaguchi’s future attendance at the Tsukishima household wasn’t looking good. Even if Yamaguchi explained that, truthfully, he wasn’t having sex with Tsukki, no way they’d be believed.

There was a crash from the other side of the room. When Yamaguchi ducked around a few couples to get a better look, he realized that he might not be the one in the most trouble tonight.

Tsukki was leaning hard on the bar. He was bright red and talking quietly. A jar of olives had shattered over part of his foot but he was still talking, glaring at the mess as if that would clean it up. Yamaguchi power-walked over there immediately.

“Tsukki!” he hissed, skidding slightly as he stopped in front of Tsukishima.

“You’re an idiot,” Tsukki said. His voice was slower than usual. His smirk at the end of his statement was loose and too wide. “Such an idiot,” he continued. “M’dad’s gonna yell.”

“You’re drunk,” Yamaguchi pointed out. “He’s gonna yell at you if he’s gonna yell at anyone.”

“He’s doing a thing,” Tsukki said dismissively. “I’ll be fine. He doesn’t care. At all.”

“Not yet,” Yamaguchi said. “Let’s see how sober you can get before he starts caring, okay?”

Tsukki grunted. “No way he’s ever gonna care,” he said. His voice sounded way more bitter than it should.

Yamaguchi turned helplessly to the bartender and wailed, “He’s underage!”

The bartender raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Honey,” she said, “we know this kid. And we know his dad. We work a lot of these events. The kid needed a drink.”

“This is way more than ‘a’ drink. Intoxicants are not a good coping mechanism,” Yamaguchi growled, stepping into the dangerous zone of broken glass and olive fluids. He reached for Tsukki, who immediately flinched back. “Hey,” Yamaguchi said softly, stretching out just one hand this time. “It’s me, okay?”

“Yeah,” Tsukki mumbled, wrapping his arm around Yamaguchi’s neck. “Knew that. Just took a sec to. Thing. Remember. You’re Freckles.”

Yamaguchi sighed. “Yes.”

“M’boyfriend,” Tsukki added, and Yamaguchi ducked his head at the hum of realization he heard from the bartender.

“I see,” she said, her voice suddenly mischievous. “You wanna take him to the staff breakroom to get him to sober up, maybe clean up his leg a little?”

Yamaguchi eyed her suspiciously. “Do you think I’m going to take advantage of him?”

Her eyebrows shot up. “God, you better not, Freckles. You’re cute but I’m not letting you get away with that shit.”

Yamaguchi relaxed. “Okay. Good. Just checking.” He hefted Tsukki’s arm a little higher—he was slipping—and then started after the bartender.

“I can give you a hand if you want?” she offered.

“He’s got a thing about people touching him,” Yamaguchi said. He wasn’t lying, either, which was nice. Sometimes (a lot of the time) he had to lie about Tsukki. It was easier for people to understand a lie.

“All right,” she said, and she steered them into what was basically a closet with some folding chairs in it, with a single bare lightbulb under a cracked ceiling light. It was dim and quiet and empty. 

“Thanks,” Yamaguchi said. “Would you mind letting us know when his dad starts asking for him?”

“Not a problem,” she said with a smile.

Yamaguchi turned to look at the chair where he’d dumped Tsukki.

Tsukishima really looked like shit. He’s knocked his glasses off somewhere and was now pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes sockets. His legs were sprawled every which way and his bow tie was crooked, almost falling out of its neat little knot. 

“Tsukki?” Yamaguchi said. He squatted down next to him and poked him gently in the side. “How you doing?”

“Fuck this party,” Tsukki said. He pulled his hands away from his eyes and glared blindly down at Yamaguchi. “And what the heck were you doing out there?”

“What?”

“You have _so many stories_ about me, Yamaguchi. What’s up with that?”

Yamaguchi could feel himself starting to blush. “I don’t know.”

“ _So many stories_ ,” Tsukki repeated. “Why are you blurry?”

“I’ll get your glasses,” Yamaguchi said, ducking around him. He felt his collar jerk back, though, and he turned. 

Tsukki was glaring at him, but with confusion rather than anger. “Why’d you have so many nice things to say about me?”

Yamaguchi shrugged and blushed harder. “I don’t know! I like you!”

Tsukki released his collar and continued to frown at him while he fumbled around on the floor until his hands bumped against Tsukki’s glasses, blending into the dark floor and the shadows cast by the bulb. He passed them up. Tsukki put them on without shifting his expression from suspicious grumpiness.

“Could you stop?” Yamaguchi asked. “Glaring at me, I mean.”

Tsukki sighed. “You’re confusing,” he said. “And Dad’s mean to you. And I can’t make him stop. I did try. But I like you, too.”

“Good?” Yamaguchi’s stomach was full of butterflies right now. He hadn’t felt this nervous since Tsukki confirmed that yes, they were dating, and that hadn’t been this direct. He swallowed hard and patted Tsukki’s knee, since this seemed very important and he wasn’t sure what he should do with his hands. He tried to settle back on his heels more but nearly overbalanced, and he had to save himself by grabbing onto the chair. “Sorry, Tsukki!”

Tsukki caught hold of his hand and gripped it tightly. Yamaguchi sat down on the floor next to him and smiled down at his own knees, knowing he was still blushing.

“I don’t have stories about you that I tell people,” Tsukki said in a rush.

“That’s okay.”

“Mainly because I don’t talk to anyone except you.”

Yamgauchi swallowed hard. “Oh.”

“I still like you though. A lot.”

Yamaguchi was feeling a massive urge to cry over how sweet this was. His voice came out a bit choked when he said, “Me too. A whole lot.”

“Like maybe I like you enough that I could say I love you,” Tsukki said.

Yamaguchi’s hand spasmed, tightening around Tsukki’s hard enough to make him wince. “Oh! Uh. Yes. I feel that about you.”

“Yeah?” Tsukki sounded neutral but Yamaguchi was back to examining his own kneecaps and couldn’t look up at the moment.

“Yeah,” he whispered.

“Can you say that to my face?”

Yamaguchi was going to die, the butterflies were holding a rave and his eyes were leaking a little because he was so completely, embarrassingly happy about this. He managed to look up, red-faced, dripping, smiling so wide his cheeks hurt, and say, “I love you, Tsukki.” Because it was important.

Tsukki squinted at him for a moment, then leaned over and pressed his face into Yamaguchi’s hair. He muttered something into that mess of gel, then pulled back far enough to press a kiss to Yamaguchi’s forehead. “Good,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tsukki is one of those dudes who can follow a recipe. Baking is a science he can fucking rock.
> 
> Forehead kisses. The hottest thing I’ve written for this fandom I think. I’m mad at how much I like Tsukki at this point. He’s nowhere close to replacing my fave but guhhhhh. I can’t hate him after all the shit I’ve written about him.


	3. Third Wheel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not underage drinking this time but LEGAL drinking, oh my gosh.
> 
> Asahi has never been drunk. Tanaka and Noya decide to fix this. Mostly they all just want to hang out and make Asahi uncomfortable and they succeed.

“Being DD fucking sucks,” Tanaka grumbled.

“Shhh,” Noya snapped. He’d propped his head on his hand and was watching Asahi with rapt attention. “It’s his first Jell-o shot. This is important.”

“His tongue’s too short,” Tanaka said. “It’s not gonna work.”

“I believe in you, Asahi!” Noya yelled.

Asahi flinched but kept carefully maneuvering his tongue around the little Jell-o cup, teasing the gelatin out of the bottom. He squished as much of it as he could into his face and then slapped it on the table with a deep sigh.

“Yeah!” Noya cheered.

“That was _hilarious_ ,” Tanaka said. “I should have taken a video.”

“My tongue hurts,” Asahi said.

“But you have three more to do!” Noya said. He clapped a hand on Asahi’s shoulder and declared, “We’re damn well going to get you drunk tonight, Asahi! Get ready!”

“This is silly,” Asahi murmured as he picked up his next shot.

“Just give in to the silliness,” Tanaka said. He swirled his straw through his cup of ice water gloomily. “God knows Noya’s already surrendered his good sense.”

“You’re DD,” Noya told Tanaka. “You have to have enough good sense for all of us. Do you think they’ll yell at me if I take my shirt off?”

“You’re stealing my plays, jerk!” Tanaka snapped. “I bet I can take my shirt off faster than you!”

“Oh yeah?!” Noya screamed, slapping both hands on the bar and leaning in close.

“Yeah!” Tanaka yelled back. “I have way more practice!” They were almost nose to nose, glaring into each other’s eyes.

“Please,” Asahi whispered. “Keep it down? The bartender will get—”

“My money’s on the short one,” the bartender said. 

Asahi looked at him with bewildered betrayal. “You’re _encouraging_ them?”

“Slow night,” the bartender said with a shrug.

Asahi sighed and started finagling his third Jell-o shot. 

On his way to standing up on the bartop for this stripping contest, Noya managed to hiss, “You make the sexiest faces when you fail at Jell-o” in Asahi’s ear. Asahi had to put the little Dixie cup down and cover his face with his hands. He missed the shirt-removing contest but when Noya let out a triumphal roar, it was fairly clear who’d won.

“So, what, are you here to babysit the little guy?” the bartender asked Asahi. On the bartop, Tanaka sobbed gently while Noya patted his back and tried to stuff him back into his shirt.

“Uh, no,” Asahi said. “It’s their first time being old enough to drink in a bar, though.”

“So you’re the designated driver?” The bartender glared at the row of crumpled Jell-o cups.

“Uh, no. They insisted that _I_ get drunk tonight because I haven’t been. Drunk, that is. Even though I’m a year older.”

The bartender raised his eyebrows. “I wouldn’t have guessed you’re that young.”

“I get that a lot.”

“Asahi!” Noya said, wrapping a hand around Asahi’s forearm. “Keep drinking, okay?”

“I’m already feeling tired, Noya!” Asahi said, but he started working on his last shot.

“Yeahhhh,” Noya said, his voice sleazy and seductive. Asahi choked. Tanaka had to reach past a laughing Noya to pound him on the back. The bartender watched them all in silence, a smile on his face but his eyebrows raised like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“Don’t worry, buddy,” Tanaka told him in a conspiratorial whisper. “We’re just sticking around here till Asahi’s drunk enough to take to a club. We’ll be out of your hair soon.”

“Oh, Tanaka, no clubs,” Asahi groaned.

“No no no no no,” Noya protested. “Clubs are the _shit_ , okay? You get to dance and there’s lights and everyone’s sweaty and it’s loud and uh.” He tapped his lips with a finger and said, “You know, you’re probably not going to like clubs.”

Asahi shook his head slowly, his face a mask of horror. “I don’t think I will.”

“You gotta try things once, though!” Tanaka said. “YOLO and all that!”

“Yes!” Noya said. He gave Tanaka’s head a vigorous noogie. “YOLO! Absolutely! This guy gets it!”

 

 

 

 

Tanaka was drinking another glass of ice water and glaring at his friends. They were dancing together in the middle of a club and it was _so_ unfair. They were all alone out there on the wide, bare dance floor. Asahi had Noya mushed to his chest and he was trying to slowdance to Pink while Noya clearly wanted to grind. But there’s no way he’d be tall enough to dirty dance with Asahi. He’d be trying to rub his ass all over Asahi’s knees or something. Didn’t stop his hips from twitching every now and then. Asahi was busy taking slow box steps; no way he noticed.

It was unfair, though. Because Tanaka wasn’t drunk and they were, and he was going to die alone. Well, except for the entire Kurasuno volleyball team, who would definitely visit him in the nursing home and take him out places with them. Tanaka was going to end up the third wheel for everyone at Kurasuno, though, and that sucked ass.

Noya managed to wriggle out of Asahi’s loving deathgrip in the middle of a Joan Jett song (it was Ladies Rock! night at this particular club). He leapt over to Tanaka and pulled on his arm happily, yelling things that were impossible to hear over the guitar riffs. Tanaka found himself being dragged onto the dance floor, and Asahi enveloped him just like he did Noya, except with Tanaka he could rest his head on Tanaka’s shoulder and drool a little.

Noya started jumping around like the ground was made of lava, laughing and headbanging. Tanaka felt Asahi humming the beat of a waltz into his shoulder. He saw people looking at the three of them, grinning and moving onto the dance floor themselves. He wrapped his arms around Asahi’s waist and tried to follow his friend’s steps and ignore Noya’s enthusiastic, violent, gyrating dance moves.

“Hey, Asahi!” Noya yelled suddenly. He grabbed one of Asahi’s shoulders and one of Tanaka’s and tried to haul himself up to their height. His legs dangled for a moment before the balance between two dancing people proved too unstable and he had to drop back down, but he certainly got their attention.

“Oh my god, _what_ , Noya?” Tanaka said. “I am trying to dance with your boyfriend right now.”

“You absolutely slut,” Noya said, before focusing on his true mission. He pointed dramatically at the list of beers over the bar, barely visible through the strobing lights. “Look!”

Tanaka eyed the list. “Beer.”

Noya smacked him on the shoulder. “Fourth one down.”

Tanaka’s mouth dropped open. “Asahi, you’re getting your namesake beer.”

Asahi squinted. “Uh, I don’t think I’m going to like beer.”

“Babe, you’re drunk,” Noya said. “You won’t care.”

“I kinda care.”

“I’ll drink it if you don’t like it,” Noya wheedled.

Asahi shrugged. “I mean, I guess that’s fine.”

“Yessssss,” Noya said, punching the air and then leaping over to the bar. He came back with a can that he passed to Asahi before he latched on to Tanaka and tried to initiate some sort of grind dance.

“Dude, I love you but _no_ ,” Tanaka said. He stuffed Noya’s head under his arm and watched Asahi take a sip.

Asahi’s entire face clenched up. Noya went limp in Tanaka’s arms, laughing hard enough that Tanaka was concerned he’d strangle himself.

“It’s so _bitter_ ,” Asahi whined, holding the can away from him. 

Tanaka snatched an experimental sip and shrugged his shoulders. “It’s about the same as the shit my sister used to buy me, back before I could get my own. I can’t believe you’ve never had beer, dude.”

“Hey, dare me to chug it!” Noya said.

“No!” Asahi said, just as Tanaka yelled, “I dare you!”

Noya poured a lot of it over his shirt because he was laughing so hard at himself, but a significant portion made it into his face. Tanaka was laughing along too, but Asahi was trying to hide his head between his shoulders like a turtle, a tactic that absolutely did not work.

“Awwww,” Noya said, tipping the empty can upside down. “I finished Asahi.”

“You mean you finished Asahi off,” Tanaka said, choking on his own laughter.

Noya’s eyes gleamed. “But he sure was tasty!”

“He got _all over you_!” Tanaka howled.

“I’m so sticky!” Noya yelled.

Asahi had his hands over his ears by now. “Would you stop?” he wailed.

Noya and Tanaka sandwiched him between them and steered him out the door.

“We’re terrible,” Noya said. “You know we’re not gonna stop.”

“We’re disgusting,” Tanaka agreed.

“Are we done drinking now?” Asahi asked.

“Sure,” Tanaka said. “Where you want me to drive you guys?”

“I’d like to go home,” Asahi said.

“Your dad there?” Noya asked.

“No,” Asahi said, sounding a bit sad. “He’s visiting another girlfriend.”

“Want us to keep you company?” Noya offered.

“Yeah, I’ve never been over to your apartment,” Tanaka said. “It’ll be fun!”

Asahi shook his head. “It’s okay.”

Noya rubbed his face on Asahi’s shoulder. “C’mon, man, don’t mope. We wanna hang.”

“O-okay.” Asahi’s smile was shy and small. 

“I’m there to keep any frisky business to a minimum,” Tanaka added. “Don’t get any ideas about taking our Noya’s virtue now! You know he’s a delicate, innocent—” but Tanaka had to stop because he couldn’t say any of that with a straight face. On Asahi’s other side, Noya was positively sobbing with laughter. Asahi was even giggling gently.

Tanaka regained his breath first. “But seriously, Asahi, I’ll keep his hands off you.”

“Spoilsport,” Noya said.

“C’mon, get in,” Tanaka said. He unlocked the door to his sister’s minivan. “No puking, Saeko’ll rip my balls off.”

“Your _volleyballs_ ,” Noya chuckled. He claimed the front seat and Asahi sat directly behind him, wrapping his arms around the seat to hug him even though it mashed his face into the headrest.

“You guys are too fuckin’ cute,” Tanaka said. He turned up the radio on his favorite pop station and listened to Noya singing along, getting half the words wrong and all the notes tangled. Asahi’s sweet tenor chimed in on the choruses every now and then. Tanaka tried beatboxing for a while until he gave up and just sang the guitar and drum solos, tapping the rhythm on the steering wheel. He was stone-sober and having a blast. Fuck the idea of the ‘third wheel,’ he was part of a tricycle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Asahi Jello-o shot fail is taken from my life and my short-tongue struggles.
> 
> It should be fairly obvious that Asahi and Noya are dating at this point. Their story has been an astonishingly linear progression in the spaghetti tangle of my volleyball ficdumps. Unexpected but delightful.
> 
> Noya and Tanaka would be the kind of guys to say YOLO and mean it wholeheartedly and without shame. I love them deeply but they would be those kind of guys.
> 
> I’m going to buy a club just so I can have Ladies Rock! nights. It wasn’t a thing I knew I needed until I wrote it right now.
> 
> My anime buddy got Japanese food with her dad and sent me a picture of Asahi beer, “the most popular beer in Japan.” I knew it had to go in this fic. I googled it because I don’t know/like beer and it’s apparently fairly meh. Not too heavy, not light enough that I could tolerate it. ...Not that I'm basing Asahi's drinking patterns on myself.
> 
> I dunno Tanaka Saeko yet but she seems like one hell of an awesome sister and she would totes have a minivan so she could take her millions of cool friends on roadies. I headcanon Saeko as Amazing To The Max.


	4. It’s Not My Party But I’ll Still Cry If I Want To

Kenma stood outside the building, staring at the ground. They’d never been to a party in a hotel before. They didn’t know where it was, either, so it was better just to wait.

“Kenma!” Finally, there was Shoyou waving from across the street as he raced over. 

Kenma pushed their hair out of their eyes and nodded politely. “Hello, Shoyou.”

“Were you waiting long?” Shoyou was panting. That meant he’d been running for a while. He was wearing a brown suit that didn’t fit him, carrying the jacket and holding a bow tie in mustard yellow. Always late, of course, even to his own sister’s birthday.

“Not very long.”

“Good, good.” Shoyou was staring up at the building now, eyes wide. “Wow, this place looks like a castle!”

“It’s nice.”

“Thanks for coming.” Shoyou wrapped an arm around Kenma’s waist and kind of shook them side-to-side. Kenma felt a bit like a tree in the wind. It wasn’t something Kenma had experienced before but it didn’t feel out of the ordinary for Shoyou. He liked to touch people but didn’t like to hold still, so this was a good compromise.

“You said you needed moral support.”

“Y-yeah.” Shoyou’s shoulders caved a little. “This is my dad’s birthday party for Natsu.”

“Ah.”

Shoyou looked up at them, his face almost comically miserable. It would have made Kenma smile, but they knew that this wasn’t an exaggerated face to get laughs. Shoyou always looked exactly how he felt. He’d never mentioned his father before, so that must be the problem. 

Kenma leaned down and gently bumped Shoyou with their head. “Let’s go. I can help you tie your tie.”

“You look nice,” Shoyou said, offering up his neck. “That’s a pretty dress.”

“Thank you. You also look nice.”

“See!” Shoyou suddenly yelled, twitching away from Kenma’s efforts to knot his tie. He stomped in a circle, hands waving wildly. “That’s how you accept a compliment! You say thanks and trade it back! That’s _manners_!”

“Did Tobio do something?”

Shoyou calmed down immediately at the sound of Tobio’s name. “Yeah. Asshole. He was making fun of my suit.”

“It’s fancier than what you usually wear.”

“Well of course it is! It’s a suit!”

“Maybe he’s not used to seeing you look nice and it’s odd for him.”

Shoyou frowned. “I think he just doesn’t like this suit.”

Kenma shrugged and adjusted the bow tie so it sat straight. “To each his own.”

“Do you like it, Kenma?” Shoyou asked, suddenly all anxious brown eyes. He started trying to mush his hair down, which was an exercise in futility as always.

“You look nice,” Kenma said, swatting his hands away. “Let’s go in. I have to be home by nine.”

“It’s only seven though.”

“I want cake.”

Shoyou grinned. “Me too!”

“A _lot_ of cake,” Kenma added.

“Race you to it!” Shoyou yelled.

“No,” Kenma said, but he’d already taken off. Kenma sighed, pushed their hair behind their ears, and set off at a jog.

 

 

 

 

 

Shoyou had gotten stuck at the revolving glass door. He was in love with it.

“Kageyama could chase me forever and never catch me!” he howled as he kept pushing it on and on. Kenma watched him until he was turning green, then managed to snag his arm and pull him out of there. They held his coat for him while he threw up in one of the fancy potted plants sitting outside the hotel. They patted his back and hummed in agreement as he moaned about how terrible it was to experience nausea. Then they stuffed him back in his overlarge jacket and steered him to the elevator.

“Cake,” Kenma reminded him. Shoyou turned green again but Kenma rubbed his back until his color returned to normal. “For me,” they clarified.

“Yeah,” Shoyou said. He sounded more subdued, which was probably a good thing. Shoyou bouncing off the walls wasn’t good to have at a kid’s party.

Shoyou’s father was apparently rich as a politician because he’d rented out an entire ballroom for his little girl’s birthday. He’d shown up at her school with a mountain of invitations for everyone in her grade, on her baseball team, in her after-school art class, and everyone who smiled at him that day, according to Shoyou. 

“He’s really charming, so everyone’s gonna come,” Shoyou had said over the phone. His voice was distorted by the distance but he hadn’t sounded normal, and Kenma had offered to help if they could. Thus, here they were, at their friend’s sister’s fancy birthday.

“There he is,” Shoyou said. He pointed to a very small man with hair even redder than his son’s, who was swing dancing with what had to be the tallest woman Kenma had ever seen. Some more adults were joining in, with much less skill and verve, and still more were watching the dancers in delight. Children ran around the edges of the room, clutching balloons and handfuls of candy. In the middle of it all spun Mr. Hinata and his blushing, smiling dance partner.

“Is he shorter than you?” Kenma asked.

“Yeah,” Shoyou said with a small grin. “He wasn’t last time I saw him.”

“Your mom must be taller than him, then.”

“She is.”

Kenma watched him dip his dance partner. “He is very charming.”

“Yeah. And he has a lot of business smarts. And not much else.”

“Where’s Natsu? All these people and all this music doesn’t seem like it would be the best for her.”

Shoyou peered around. “Shit, you’re right. Uhhh I dunno. Do you see a tiny me in a pink party dress?”

“Not this early in the evening.”

Shoyou whipped his head around and stared, his mouth dropping open. “Kenma! Your jokes! Oh my gosh!”

Kenma smiled a little. Then they spotted her. “Shoyou. Over there.”

Shoyou looked where they were pointing and nodded once, confirming what they had both suspected. “Meltdown.”

Natsu was flopped on the floor in a heap, a pink lump half-hidden by the snack table’s tablecloth. She was unmoving, and that was an immediate sign of trouble. The Hinata clan was not a sedentary group. Kenma hitched up their skirt and loped over to where Shoyou was already kneeling beside the birthday girl.

“Hey, Natsu,” Kenma heard him say.

A high whine was his only response.

“Too much?” Shoyou said.

Another whine.

“Can you hold on to me?”

A tiny head shake.

“How about me?” Kenma offered.

Natsu rolled over, flopping onto her brother’s feet (he was wearing sneakers with his suit, of course), and looked up at Kenma. She looked like she was thinking hard about her answer, and finally decided on, “Okay.” She reached up with tiny hands and Kenma bent over, hair sweeping across their face, to let her arms wrap around Kenma’s neck. Natsu buried her face in Kenma’s shoulder and Kenma started humming quietly, a drone that they hoped would cancel out some of the party noise.

“Thanks,” Shoyou said quietly.

Kenma nodded, still keeping up their hum.

“Shoyou!” The voice was as loud and as high as Shoyou’s but it came from behind Kenma.

“Who’s this? Your girlfriend? She’s tall! Atta boy!” Mr. Hinata spoke in sharp little sentences that made Kenma take a step back. Mr. Hinata was grinning up into Kenma’s face with the same look Shoyou got when he talked about volleyball, but this kind of grin had an edge to it. Mr. Hinata was seeking something in Kenma’s features, some way to get to know them better and use them somehow. Kenma knew that look; they wore a version of it themselves from time to time, when they were strategizing during matches. Never this sharp, though. They were more subtle about it at least.

“Hello,” Kenma said, pausing their hum for the moment. “I’m Kozume Kenma.”

“We’re not dating, Dad,” Shoyou said. “And Kenma’s not—”

“Well you should! She’s pretty!”

“Thank you,” Kenma said.

Shoyou was a very interesting shade of red that was bordering on purple now, and he looked angry. “I’m gonna need to get some cake to go cuz we need to bring Natsu home now. This was way too much for her.”

“Nonsense! Nothing’s too much for my little princess!” And he reached for Natsu.

Kenma backed away very quickly, feeling Natsu stiffening in their arms.

Mr. Hinata looked bewildered. He had a completely open face, just like his son, and now it was sliding from pleased to hurt. “What—”

“Natsu doesn’t like parties this big, Dad,” Shoyou said. He stepped in front of Kenma and his sister and added, “But you do, so you can keep going with all this. It wasn’t really for her, anyway.”

Kenma watched Mr. Hinata’s face get very sad. “Oh, Shoyou, I didn’t—”

“Yeah, you didn’t know because you’re _never here_ ,” Shoyou snapped, and Kenma could hear the tears starting up in Shoyou’s voice. “You aren’t around and so you miss out on shit like this. And one big party doesn’t make up for the four years you were gone. So I’m getting to-go cake for me and my sister and Kenma, who likes _gender-neutral pronouns_ , thank you, and we’re gonna go home and read Natsu every single book she owns until she falls asleep. Like we do every year for her birthday.”

Kenma could feel Natsu’s head nod along with what her brother was saying. They hoisted her a little higher and pulled at Shoyou’s shoulder with a free hand. “Hey. Come on.”

Shoyou tucked his head down and was sniffling like has has a cold as he walked to the snack table. Kenma waited for him to pile a plate with cake, still humming for Natsu’s sake.

“Gender neutral, huh?” Mr. Hinata said after a moment.

“Yes.”

“Sorry about that.”

Kenma took a breath. “You didn’t know.”

“Um. Could you talk to him for me? And Natsu. I just want—”

“I’m not good at that kind of thing,” Kenma said. “You should do it yourself.” 

Shoyou was striding out, people clearing a path for him as he walked. They held onto Natsu more firmly, bowed to the stunned Mr. Hinata, and walked briskly out of the room.

“You forgot napkins and forks,” Kenma said when they’d caught up to Shoyou at the elevators. They had their arms full with an increasingly wiggly Natsu (a sign she was perking up), so they headbutted him in the back and stayed there, pressing against his shoulder firmly.

“Thanks,” Shoyou said. His voice was scratchy.

“Put me down!” Natsu whined.

Kenma lowered her carefully and then smoothed their skirt. “Can I have my cake now?”

“You earned it,” Shoyou said. He sniffed again and passed them the cake plate.

Kenma popped a piece of the yellow cake with chocolate frosting into their mouth, then paused for a moment. “This isn’t funfetti, Shoyou. He’s truly a shitty father.”

Shoyou laughed then, just as Kenma had hoped he would. And Natsu giggled as she wrapped herself around her brother’s leg. Kenma smiled quietly into their food, hair ghosting forward to hide their face as they kept eating cake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Parties in hotels aren’t normal where I’m from. I dunno if they’re normal in Japan at all; odds are no. But dammit I wanted another fancy party fic and I’m going to get it because I fucking wrote the thing so obviously I got it. Hinata has a rich-as-fuck dad who shows up once every five years to spoil whatever kid he decides he likes best at the time. Hinata’s mom does NOT approve, but she gets child support on time and she wants her kids to be happy so she keeps hoping that something'll change.
> 
> Kenma in dresses KENMA IN DRESSES Kenma in dresses.
> 
> Hinata didn’t invite Kags for a lot of reasons, the main one being that I wanted Kenma and Hinata to hang out more. And my version of Natsu hates Kags’ guts. Another reason is that Hinata didn’t want to fight the entire night with his party buddy AND his father.
> 
> Cake became too big a deal but DAMMIT, THEY DESERVE CAKE AFTER THIS.
> 
> Funfetti cake is the sign of a truly good birthday. A pity this birthday was so shitty.


End file.
